


Jukebox and Milkshakes

by PrincessDianaArtemis



Series: OTP-Tober [13]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 50s Greasers, American culture, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Curvy Aziraphale, Diners, F/M, Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fifties, Friendly Waitresses, Greaser Crowley, Jukeboxes, Milkshakes, Possessive Crowley, Slow Dancing, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Waiters & Waitresses, cheek kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27275800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessDianaArtemis/pseuds/PrincessDianaArtemis
Summary: A milkshake date.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: OTP-Tober [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948099
Kudos: 23





	Jukebox and Milkshakes

**Author's Note:**

> After a bout of Imposter's Syndrome I got off my ass.

It was a 50s and American tradition had evolved to include a very interesting spot for eating - the diner. So it made sense for Crowley to come over and invite his friend over for lunch and, when asked where they were headed, pop them across the pond to a very bright and bopping diner.

“Heavens, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, hazel eyes sparkling with the lights around them. “My dear, what is this?”

Crowley smirked, popping the collar of his leather jacket and making a show of presenting the scene to Aziraphale, “This, angel, is peak American culture at the time - they call this a diner and it’s all the rage. Heard they make the greatest desserts this side of the pond.”

Aziraphale, who had been donning a female form since the time for cute sweaters and cozy skirts arrived along with the fifties, was getting quite a few looks from the passing men. So, in a move of demonic envy, he wrapped his arm tight around Aziraphale’s luxurious waist and pulled her close.

“C’mon, angel, let’s see what they’ve got.”

The music, upbeat and bringing the young people around the diner to their feet, poured from the jukebox and Aziraphale, fascinated, wiggled over to look at the flashing lights of the machine.

“Dearest, is this a music box?”

“They call it a jukebox, plays all the latest hits,” said Crowley, herding her away and into a nearby booth. “Maybe we can find something to listen to when the kids are all done dancing around?”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” said Aziraphale. “This music is wonderful but - it’d be nice to hear something a little less…be-bop sounding.”

Before Crowley was able to respond to Aziraphale’s adorable, if somewhat out of place, comment, the waitress came over smiling at them bright enough to challenge the angelic beam of the actual angel.

“Hello, dolls. My name’s Dottie, I’ll be your waitress today,” she said, handing them over the grease smudged menus that were miraculously clean as they brushed fingers. “How can I start y’all off?”

Aziraphale returned the smile, “Nice to meet you, Dottie.”

Dottie’s smile, if possible, widened, “Oh, friends from across the pond. Is this your first time at a diner?”

When Aziraphale gave a nod, she grabbed the menu out from their fingers, “Then may I make a suggestion? I want to start you cute things, right. Do y’all trust me?”

Crowley turned to his angel, an eyebrow raised in question, and Aziraphale smiled, reaching over to squeeze Dottie’s hand, “Of course, my dear.”

The long eyelashes fluttered as she winked, “I’ll be back before you know it with the best of the best.”

And as Dottie hurried away barking orders to the cook behind the door, Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves alone again, listening to the crooning of a song that spoke about love and had the others scattered around the diner winding down in slow dancing.

Aziraphale turned her fluttering eyelashes over at Crowley whose stomach flipped as the eyelashes paired with the moue of her sweet, pink lips were weaponized against him.

“Oh, dearest, this song is so beautiful,” she said, “And all those lovely young people dancing.”

“I know what that means, angel,” he said with a little smirk. He slid out of the booth and held a hand out towards the now glowing Aziraphale, “c’mon, let’s go dance while we wait for Dottie.”

The soft, manicured hand wrapped around his spindly fingers as Aziraphale followed him to her feet and he led her down with the rest of the dancing couples. Following their lead, Crowley’s shaky hands settled on her waist and she settled her thick forearms around his neck, sending a bashful smile and looking up at him through her eyelashes.

As the music seemed to go on and on, the two swayed to the cooing of the song and as dancers slid away into seats, they continued to dance with their never-tiring, slow passing of time growing slower. 

Aziraphale, growing comfortable under the feeling of love emulating around them, took a step closer, laying her head against Crowley’s chest where his heart traitorously gave a stammering beat. The feeling of love swelled, then shattered as a hand tapped on Aziraphale’s shoulder and pulled her head off the beating heart.

A man, older than the rest, but still younger than them by a long-shot, stood there, smiling, “Mind if I cut in?”

Crowley’s tongue flicked out, forked and irritated, especially when Aziraphale’s hand slid off him and towards the man. But a brush of her thumb against his nape froze him.

“I’m flattered, dear,” she said, patting the leather covered arm of the man. “But I’m afraid that Dottie has our order. Come along, Crowley, dearest.”

And how could he argue with that?

Dottie’s smile reached from ear-to-ear as they slid into the booth, side by side this time. 

“Here you go. Our famous triple flavored milkshake - with two straws of course. The favorite for all our couples,” she winked. “Let me know if y’all need anything else, sweethearts.”

With a muttered thanks, the two turned their blushing face towards the glass of pink, white, and brown, the red of the straws bright against the clarity of the glass.

“Well, dear,” said Aziraphale, squeezing Crowley’s hand. “Should we dig in?”

Crowley gave her a warm smile, besotted, “Absolutely. What do we toast to? To good music?”

“And to even better company,” Aziraphale said, leaning over to give Crowley a quick peck on the cheek. Then with a sip and a happy wiggle, she turned to the milkshake. “Dig in, darling. It’s scrumptious.”

The love-goop demon could only lean forward and take a sip of his own, eyes focused on the vision before him and relishing in the little sounds she made as the jukebox behind them kept crooning its love songs.


End file.
